First of all, when someone rings my doorbell unexpectedly, I have to make a real choice. Hide or don't hide. The struggle is real, y'all.

But we opened the door, and there was the family from down the street with all the boys. We talked on the front porch and invited them to hang out there until we figured out a way to feed them all. We "grilled" burgers inside on the stove, while the whole family lined up on the bench on my front porch. It was kind of adorable.

I'm trying to pinpoint the emotion that I was experiencing. I think it was...mirth.

We fed our neighbors, again, for the second time in two days. We played some silly games in the front yard, had a hula-hoop contest, and talked about life. And then they went home.

Wednesday, October 07, 2015

If reaching out to that first neighbor was the hardest thing ever, planning our first block party was the most fun. We collaborated on everything, from what to eat, how much to charge--if anything, and what kind of music to play.

Our first and utmost goal was to make our neighbors feel welcome and loved. We planned for a hot day, with a huge inflatable water slide for the kids. We bought frozen burgers to grill, made sweet tea and lemonade, and made everything as delicious as possible, with the least amount of stress. We decided to ask for $5 per family to "cover" the cost.

We made cute little flyers and both families walked them door-t0-door, introducing ourselves to each person that answered the door.

The party was a blast! There were kids playing in the water, neighbors holding each other's babies, and food.

People were eating, and I love feeding people. I had to go into the house for more cookies and chips more than once. (I'm always in awe when people actually show up for a party, and we had about half of the block there. I was amazed.)

But the best moment was when we talked a group of boys, wandering home from the basketball court, to join us. They wolfed down a couple burgers apiece, asking for seconds and thirds on cookies. I sent them home with burgers for dinner, a couple bags of chips, and who knows what else. I was in neighbor-loving HEAVEN.

But not everyone was. After the boys left, an older couple came up to me, handed me a $20 bill, and talked in hushed voices. "This is for any extra costs--in case certain people didn't pay. Some people just like to take advantage."

It was like a punch in the gut. They didn't get it. Those boys had to be talked into staying--probably because of the 5 bucks we had asked for in the invotation, and I was beyond thrilled to bring them into the group. I'm not a confrontational person, especially when it comes to people with a couple generations on me, but I had to say something. So I replied, "Thank you. But I don't feel like they were taking advantage. Our goal today was to love on our neighbors, and eat some burgers together. And I think we did that!" Also, I accepted the money.

For about two days after the party, I was mad. How can people be so hateful? Those boys were living in a household with a single mom, relocated from their home state after Hurricane Katrina. They were Cajun, so South Dallas was basically a foreign country. (I still laugh about the food conversations we had. Those guys loved them some turkey neck!) Their single mom was working nights to make ends meet, and she had taken children into her home that weren't even hers, because they had no where else to go. The least I could have done was offer them an extra burger. Why couldn't that couple see that?

But of course, they didn't know all that. They just saw some rowdy boys taking more than their share.

Eventually I came to see that both the boys' family and the older couple were my neighbors. I can't choose to serve the "needy" and ignore the "ignorant". Because the thing I'm bringing to the table isn't cheeseburgers and sweet tea.It's Jesus. And these two families were equally in need. God told me to love on my neighbors. He told me to love people who were unlovely. Even the well-off older couple with the fancy car who just don't get it.

Maybe someday they will.

Matt 25:35"For I was hungry, and you gave Me something to eat; I was thirsty, and you gave Me something to drink; I was a stranger, and you invited Me in;" --Jesus

I wrote a blog post about this a couple years ago, with a bit more "how-to" than this one. If you're looking for some tips on getting started on your first block party, check it out!

Tuesday, October 06, 2015

I don't know why I've never written the second part of this story until now. If you haven't read the first part, you can read it here.

So what happened next?

During that first talk on my front porch, I learned that my new friend Malika and I had a lot in common. We were both in our early thirties, mom to three kids (now four each!), and the most surprising: we were both married to PASTORS.

I thought I was reaching out to my neighbors for the purpose of evangelism. And God had something completely different in mind. Instead of giving me ministry on my street, which I was longing for, He had given me fellowship!

Over the next few months we planned a block party for our neighborhood. We worked together to meet our neighbors and pray for them. We met together to pray for our kids early in the morning. We have sledded down the street after an ice storm, encouraged each other through difficult times (like Sunday mornings) and even discussed, at length, that one illusive topic that almost never jumps racial boundaries. HAIR. We are sisters. In a way that only two believers can be. There was no small talk period, or I'm-not-sure-if-this-is-a-safe-person period. I recognized the Spirit in her and she saw Him in me, and that was it. Sisters. And that is something I could never have imagined on that day I was scared to even cross the street!

(Our boys, CJ and Ethan...instant friends too)

But there's more. Impossible, I know. But just get ready... At the time that we met, Malika's husband Craig was the worship pastor for a church almost an hour away. And my husband was the youth pastor at our church, less than 10 minutes away. I invited her to bring the kids to some of our events, and even on a Sunday morning, if they (she and the kids) weren't able to get out of the house in time to make the long drive. Well, they did. And somehow, through the intricate plans of the One who holds the planets in orbit, one thing led to another. We lost our music leader. And now Pastor Craig leads worship at our church.

What!

I cannot even type this without tears flowing. How could God use me like this? Why would He? It is so beyond my understanding that I can hardly take it.

I thought He was sending me across the street to evangelize. But I had no idea what I was actually doing for Him!

I want to get one thing straight. I cannot take any credit for any of this. I was obedient, yes. (This time.) But all the planning was the Lord's. All the orchestrating and timing was the Lord's. Could my church have found Pastor Craig without my involvement? ABSOLUTELY! God is sovereign.

But this time, because I obeyed that roaring "whisper" of the Holy Spirit, I got to be part of the story. I got a front row seat to God's placement and planning. His perfect timing.

And it makes me wonder. What I have I missed out on because I was too afraid to trust His leading? What have you?

Let's be bold. In the only way that we can be. By becoming LESS, thinking less, judging less, fearing less, and clinging to Him with all our might as He becomes MORE, our everything, guiding us to step into the unknown.

Monday, October 05, 2015

I went to New York a few years ago for my birthday. I loved every second of it. I ate at amazing restaurants, visited sights I'd only dreamed of, and talked to some of the most interesting people--all strangers.

Someone mentioned that they knew I must have been from the south, because I was so friendly.

Let me make something very clear. I am not friendly because I grew up in the South. Southern mommas warn their babies about strangers just as much as northern moms. I am not friendly because I'm an outgoing person. In fact, I'm the opposite. I like the occasional party, but my happy place is at home, preferably alone. I'm an introvert among introverts.

On my own, I am not friendly. But I talk to strangers. I talk to them at the grocery store, in the drive thru, at the fabric store, the gas station, and the subway in New York. And I do it for one reason. Jesus.

Any good that you see in me is because of Him. Any boldness or friendliness that I possess, is from the Holy Spirit who has dwelt within me since the day I trusted Christ. Which means...that anything I do that seems good, or bold, or friendly...you are fully capable of doing if you are a follower of Jesus. And much more than me, too. Because I am not that obedient. Although I'm getting better.

But I'm getting off track.

I was friendly with strangers for almost 8 years before I had the courage to introduce myself to one of my neighbors. I just didn't know where to start. And there's so much more skin in the game when the strangers live on your street. Because they are always there! And then they aren't strangers. They're NEIGHBORS.

I've told this story before, and I'd love for you to go back and read the original, because it was fresh on my mind. Still raw.

Here's how I remember it now: There was a new family that moved in across the street, and I knew they had kids. I thought it would be great to put together a fancy welcome basket to show them some love. But I didn't. Months passed. I saw their kids playing in the yard--they looked about my kids' ages. Maybe they could play together! Months passed. One day when I was walking the kids to school, a woman in their front yard called to me. (Yes! I didn't have to do it!) She didn't live there. (Dang it!) She lived in Maryland, and was visiting her daughter who was about to have a baby. Wow! I had just had a baby. We are so alike! Months passed. The baby was born. I would unload groceries from my car, and kind of stare into their yard like a weirdo, hoping that they would look over and I could wave. That would be a nice start. Six weeks passed.

I had done nothing but agonize about how to make the first move. Every day this was getting weirder!

Stepping out of that introvert box for the first time is really hard, y'all!

Finally one day I determined to take them some bagels. I went to the store, got home with my groceries, and the hand-picked bagels, and realized that I'd forgotten the cream cheese. But this time, months did not pass. The Holy Spirit's gentle whisper had become a mighty rushing, roaring wind in my ears. I looked at the abundance in my grocery bags, and put together a strange, miss-matched gift basket. Oranges, apples, some Mexican orange soda, bagels without cream cheese, and a frozen lasagna. And a card with the names and ages of our kids, our names, and my cell phone number.

I looked at the basket, put my baby Esther down for a nap, and turned to facebook for some moral support.

Just do it. Thanks, Debbie J! (A friend's mom who has known me since birth!)

I walked out of my house, basket in hand, with my heart pounding so loud in my ears that I couldn't even think about what to say or not say.

I knocked on the door. And the husband answered. Crap! Not the husband! I can handle a neighbor lady stranger at the very most. But not the husband! I muttered a few words, maybe smiled? and reminded him to stick the lasagna in the freezer. I might have said goodbye before I hightailed it back to my house and my sleeping baby (who I was certain had been abducted while I was off doing the Lord's work.)

Friends, we have to start somewhere.

My first attempt was sluggish, delayed, ugly, and deeply flawed. But we have to start somewhere.

I'm going to tell you what came of this awkward attempt tomorrow, but I will say that that mom showed up on my porch the next morning. I opened the door (another huge accomplishment for me, by the way) holding baby Esther, naked except for her diaper, in the freezing February cold, and we talked for 20 minutes on the front porch. Like neighbors. Each of us holding our babies and the fragile beginnings of a new friendship.

Sunday, October 04, 2015

I guess if I'm trying to spend a month loving my neighbor, I should define who that includes.

I know you think I'm going to start with scripture here, but I'm not! I think the most basic description of who my neighbor is, and who I should spend this month loving, can be found this timeless song from my childhood.

Ok. Good start. The people that I meet each day.

Starting with my family. My kids. My husband. If I can't love on the ones I see from morning to night, I should not be worrying about loving anyone outside my front door. They are my ministry first.

Next, my ACTUAL neighbors. The people on my street, I am sad to say, have seen me in every state of dress (or undress) imaginable. They know things that cannot be shared on this blog. They are literally the closest people to my real life that exist. I know some of them must have been looking out their windows last night when I yelled in my scary momma bear voice at the kids who had run out the door in the dark toward the street. (My neighborhood has an impressive echo quality!) And yet for the first couple of years that we lived in this house, I only knew a couple of them. I'll get back to these guys, because at this point, I'm OBSESSED with them. They are going to be the bulk of this month for sure.

But who else? The guy in the McDonald's drive-thru? (Not that I would feed my kids that garbage. (I'm lying--I do! A lot!)) The girl in the Walmart checkout? The lady in front of you in line? The guy behind the counter at the gas station? The man with the sign on the side of the road? YES I have been praying the last few years that God would open my eyes to my neighbor. To his lost sheep who cross my direct path every day. Some of them I'll never meet again--like the guy today in line at QT.

He was short $.16 and ran to the back of the line to see if his friend could help him out. I had a quarter. He didn't want to take my quarter, but I insisted. He didn't know about my 31 days of loving my neighbor. I wasn't backing down. And I thought, does this count? Does passing a quarter to the guy in front of me in line make any kind of difference? I think it does. The quarter itself doesn't matter, but the act does. I can't tell you how many times tonight I've thought about that guy. Even prayed for him. A stranger. Because those tiny acts of loving your neighbor cause your lives to take the same path--if only for a few steps.

Jesus said (you knew I'd get to Him, right?) to love your neighbor as yourself. And when you do that, even in the tiniest way, you make that stranger into a real human person, as valuable and loved by God as you are. You acknowledge that. And people react. That guy in line must have thanked me 5 times--with words, with a smile, with a head nod. It bumped him off course a little bit, and it did the same to me. I wonder if he thought about it again later.

The man who was robbed got passed by the noblest do-gooders imaginable. They left him there for dead. And the ordinary Samaritan man, who most would look at with pity and shame, picked him up, got him help, gave him money, would have shared his cell phone number if he'd had one.

And at the end of the story, Jesus doesn't tell the disciples who their neighbor is. He asked who was a neighbor to the dying man. Not who the Samaritan's neighbor was. Who was the neighbor to the dying man?

And their answer? The one who showed mercy to him.

So to answer my own question, who is my neighbor? It's up to me to find them. I cross paths with them every day. And who is their neighbor?

me.

you.

the one who shows mercy.

the one who acknowledges their humanity.

the one who steps out of his own path to join the path of another, even if it's only to hand him a quarter.

Saturday, October 03, 2015

Y'all, I have started For the Love, and it is so, so good. Even the introduction is good, and you know that's the part you usually skip. But I'm gonna wait to talk about that until I'm finished.

I thought, especially if you're new here, that you might want to have a little history about me and my interest in being neighborly. So here goes.

A few years ago I found myself reading books about some pretty amazing real-life people. They were CHANGING the WORLD for Jesus, and I started feeling really left out. I wanted to change the world for Jesus, too! I started feeling like I was wasting my life and my talents. All I was doing was raising kids, supporting my husband, and dealing with the endless list of household responsibilities. But I wanted to save orphans, end hunger, stop human trafficking. I was born to do these things, I was sure of it.

And with that gentle, stern voice of His, the Holy Spirit spoke to my distracted heart in a way I couldn't miss. "I know you love me enough to do huge things for my Kingdom. But do you love me enough to do small things? Things that don't seem to matter outside of your household? Things that only I may know about?" And at the time, my answer was no. And it broke me. I wanted to love Him like that.

Remember when the disciples ask Jesus who their neighbor is, and he tells them the story of the Samaritan, and they're all shocked? Well, my story was the reverse of that. I told God I wanted to serve my neighbor! The poor! The marginalized! The sick! The orphaned! The widow! The refugee!

And God showed me that MY neighbor, the one I'm supposed to love and serve, is right there at home. He wants my kids. He wants my ACTUAL neighbors. He wants me to love the orphans in Haiti, yes. But that couple on my street with the awesome yard? He wants me to love them too. Now. Because of all the people in the whole world, these are the people I'm most equipped to minister to. Who better to minister to my kids than me? Who better to love on than the widow who lives directly across from me? I see these people every day.

Over the last few years, the Lord has kept a tight grip on my ministry, reigning me in over and over from pursuing GOOD things outside of His will for me. I don't help out with Donnie's youth group. I don't go to the Ladies Bible Study on Tuesday mornings. I stayed home from a missions trip I was DYING to go on (on my birthday!), because Eli wasn't ready to be away from me. It's so hard to say no to all of these good things. But I think maintaining a focus on the tiny things God has required of me has changed my family. It has strengthened my marriage. It has made me appreciate the intricate workings of the Church--the Body of Christ. I even love God more.

I still have big dreams. I still hope to have an influence for the Lord outside my immediate area. I have big crazy dreams that I believe are from God, but that I haven't been given the go-ahead on.

And I'm praying that I have the self-control to wait for His timing. So until that happens, I'll be at home. Teaching my kids, building our family business, loving on our neighbors, and 1,000,000 little things that I don't need you to know about, because He does. And I love Him enough now to do them (or at least try).

What small thing has He asked of you? The most profound thing I've been told on this journey was that we have no way of knowing which things are small, and which are actually going to change the world. We just need to obey.

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If you have the time, I'd love for you to check out the original post about Doing Something Small. It was a major turning point in my life, and I am so glad I heard His call.

Thursday, October 01, 2015

I ordered this book a month ago and have not let myself even crack the spine. With starting the home-school year, the beginning of my holiday market season, and just the general house-keeping/mothering duties that are overwhelming to me in themselves, I knew I couldn't handle it.

Because Jen Hatmaker's books tend to wreck my life. I think I'm functioning fairly well, living for the Lord and loving His people. And then one of her books knocks my feet out from under me and I don't know which way is up!

But this is the day. I'm going on a retreat with my family, away from the house and laundry and dishes, where I just may have some thinking space. And I'm starting the book today. I fully expect to be thrown for a loop--but at least I'm prepared for it this time!

I'll let you know how it goes.

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Have you read this one? Are you part of the online book club and discussion? Tell me about it in the comments, but NO SPOILERS please!

Just a note: Some of the links in this post are affiliate links, which means that if you click on it, and then decide to buy, Amazon may throw a few cents my way, at no cost to you. It's a cool way to support a blogger, and I just wanted to make sure you were aware. But of course, I wasn't paid to write about these books, and all opinions are my own!

Welcome, friends! Today I'm doing a little introduction to this series...how I got here and what to expect.

I have wrestled the last few weeks with whether to write or not write this series, but in the end I have decided that I need to acknowledge--in written word--what God has done in me and through me regarding my neighbors in the last few years.

So, this 31-day series will be very little about me, and very much about HIM...and those people He calls my neighbors. I'll be sharing old stories, new ideas, and a couple of blatant experiments in building community. I'm looking forward to seeing where it takes us!

(That's me and my fella at a recent vintage market. Nice to meet ya!)

And here's some inside, behind-the-scenes information. I have no idea what I'm going to be writing each day. In the past, I have planned out each day, sometimes months in advance. But not this time! I want to be open to where the Spirit leads. I'm nervous about not having a plan, but I know that God has one. And His are usually way better than mine anyway.

Hello! I'm so glad you found me! I believe in living life with purpose and creativity, and I want to inspire you to do the same with project tutorials, craft ideas, and funny stories of real family life. Follow me as I strive to find the joy in every day!